Wrists Poems

Elixir of the Sun and the Moon

Just let my heart and mind breath
I bellow out into the bitter wind
The constant plummeting of thoughts
Against my skull
Nausea narrows and squeezes my lungs in its paws
My organs are the monster’s play toys
Thrown around
Pulled apart
Beat around
And left alone
Emotions spilling out of my chest
Overflowing me
I’m drowning in disquiet
The pulling of ropes inside my throat
The boulder tight

Marked Wrists

Behind those hidden marked wrists
Are lies, skepticism and fears
Behind those calloused, clenched fists
Is a cauldron of uncontrollable tears.

Behind those evident scars
Is a constant cycle of sorrows
An imaginary fiend that mars
A twinge that only herself knows.

Behind those unappealing blotches
Are griefs, worries and insecurities
Inflictive pain worth a million degrees
Coupled with regrets and negativities.

Behind those ugly knife marks
Is

Light My Cigarette While I Cut My Wrists

absolutely maybe if wings flew
 without a bird's body and the air
lifted ground as outer space
filled inner spirits

  then all things might be 
equal and if so then what?

Zero.

Which is arguably a 'something'
less than 1 but greater than 
less than zero.

Words.

The devil's insidious plot to
madden the human mind with 
intangible monsters that chip
 away

Wrists

I have so many canvases.
                          Real,
                       My hand,

Broken Hearts and Bleeding Wrists

Broken hearts and bleeding wrists
What the hell happened to that childhood innocence 
Where monsters that lived under the bed
Now lived inside our head,
Keeping us awake at night
Juice became alcohol
And Pepsi shots became tequila shots
Tell me, when did scraped knees 
Become bleeding wrists
And when did we stop believeing 
That tomorrow would be better
How did we become

Soon Would Split Both Wrists

Soon Would Split Both Wrists

Trump has been known to be a misogynist;
Good looking women loves and can't resist;
With much regret,
We here will set;
Sure wish he would soon split both wrists.

Jim Horn

Toothpick Wrists and Gay Thoughts

I was born 6 lbs. 9 oz. with blond hair and blue eyes. 
I was also born gay
I am anorexic. 
And you would think people would ridicule me for this instead of me being gay.
 Surely they would see how unhealthy it was and see that in comparison liking girls was no big deal. 
No,

Helga's Wrists Are Out of Caress

Helga’s wrists are out of caress
I can’t touch’ em, this is true,
Full of woes I’m really jealous,
Pain is same as songs, anew
I am blaming Fate, that’s wicked,
But I know myself, no one
will suggest another ticket 
for my way, sky’s deaf. It’s done.
All her deeds are complicated
There’s no word of mine to save.
Telling, sorry, I’m so

Handcuff Wrists

http://www.poetrysoup.com/poets/top_100_poets_most_poems_all_time.aspx

Handcuff Wrists

What constitutes correct campaign contribution?
Also, show me what should be right solution
That will put proper feather in our each cap
So we can avoid having a political mishap.

Maybe might be a maximum requirement
And where all of the money may have went
Instead of person who is healthy and hearty
Perhaps let it go to whole political party.

After

I'M Dead, and My Wrists Are Red

I slit my wrists
At the memory of two fists
Coming down on my face
I can't help but feeling out of 
place
Why does happen to me
I can't help who I might be
Don't you have any memory of 
us?
I never put up a fuss
But you still hate your youngest 
daughter
Even though you are my father
I used to love

My Wrists

A story is told 
Just by the look of it
You see it starts to unfold 
It's hard to take in just a bit

So many memories
I take them all with me
I pull at my sleeves
So that no one see

I don't want to hurt anyone
Even when they've hurt me
I'm fragile
Yet they still break me

Bloody Wrists

I'm sitting on the floor
I'm crying so much more
trying to erase this pain
trying to forget your face
sitting here with the blade in my hand
running so slow blood dripping down
in a deep red color
flowing freely the way i want to feel

I'm sitting on the floor 
holding my hand out
I'm holding a bottle
a bottle filled with pills
I'm

Wrists

The sharp edge 
catches the light on my
wrist like a bangle that was 
meant to be there

The blade has teeth but
doesn't smile
it just knows, it just understands
me
and my shaking fingers

like a servant 
it will do as I ask
like a slave
there is no choice
like a friend 
it loves me more than others
who find themselves
on the opposite

Open Your Wrists

Open your wrists
Let the blood leak out
In a crimson river of tears

Allow it to fall
Upon tile grounds
Making the color unclear

Open your mouth
Let a scream slip out
And echo against lonely walls

Allow it to linger,
To fill quiet airs
Then back in your ears, let it crawl

Open your mind
Let it cluelessly wander
With nothing clouded in your brain

Allow it to

I Don'T Care If You Slit Your Wrists, Anymore

I'm numb. I'm indifferent. I don't love or hate you anymore. I'm luke warm and being spit
out of God's mouth... There's so much room now with out you in my universe. I told myself
I would, and you kept interrupting. Barging in through the door without knocking the way
you always do. I don't live there anymore.

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